


Everybodys Got A Cute, Little Were

by kestra_troi



Category: Sterek-Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Dork Stiles, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Inspired by Music, No Plot/Plotless, No Sex, References to Gilmore Girls, Stiles and Derek Meet, The Author Regrets Nothing, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cute ficlet about Stiles and Derek’s first meeting in an AU were Weres are known and can be hired to perform various tasks. Derek is such a Were, and he is chosen by the Sheriff to look after the meddlesome, flailing Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybodys Got A Cute, Little Were

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on and inspired by the Veggie Tales’ song “Everybody’s Got A Waterbuffalo.” Here is a sample of altered lyric:  
> “Everybody’s got a cute, little Were,  
> Yours is sweet, but mine just glares,  
> Oh where d’we get them I don’t care,  
> Oh everybody’s got a cute, little weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere.”

“So…what’s your name?” Stiles asked with a nervous smile pulling on his lips and jitter fingers pulling on the hem of his shirt. The Were in front of him said nothing, but the death-glare scowl on the beefier man-wolf’s face was answer enough. Was it weird that the Were’s bitch-face made Stiles’ mouth water?

 

“Mine is Stiles.” The twitchy teen said extending his right hand in greeting. There was no movement from the Were, his eyes didn’t even move from their point of focus burrowing into Stiles’ head. Chuckling weakly Stiles withdrew his hand and his statement, saying, “Well actually my name is Kryzsiek, but just try saying that three times fast.”

 

Stony silence. The Were tweaked an eyebrow, but made no other move. Stiles absentmindedly licked his lips while his hand went to the back of his head for a twitchy scrub. Was it weird that he wanted to touch the Were’s eyebrows and rub his face against the older man-wolf’s scruff?

 

“Ummmmmm….so I guess—I—I mean: welcome. I come in peace.” Stiles joked dorkily. “My Dad seems to think I need a Were to babysit me while he works, he’s the Sheriff, but I guess you would know that since he picked you out and hired you and brought you here in his cruiser and all, so DUH, but my Dad works long hours. Longer hours than strictly necessary because reasons, ya know? We Stilinski men like to procrastinate especially when it comes to emotions, like I mean you should’ve seen my Grandpa; he didn’t cry one tear after my Meemaw’s death until like two months later when he couldn’t find the coupon drawer. Yeah emotional-constipation, am I right? It runs in the family, so yeah my Dad’s not around much and I think he thinks that if you’re here I won’t get into as much trouble. Not _bad_ trouble, good trouble, good-humored trouble like egging Jackson “I-Woke-Up-Like-This” Whittemore’s Porsche or poking dead bodies in the Preserve with sticks. Not that I’ve _ever_ poked dead bodies with sticks irl, that means in real life, I mean I wanna see a dead body someday which sounds really creepy and serial-killer-y, but I mean I wanna see one so that I know I can handle it ya know? Cause I wanna be like my Dad like a cop or a detective or something and if you can’t handle dead bodies then you shouldn’t join the force. Am I right?”

 

Eye flare. Another raised eyebrow. No verbal response. Stiles took a breath.

 

“Are you like broken? FUCK, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound like a complete Jackson, but sometimes I have ADHD, no I mean I _always_ have ADHD, but sometimes I just blurt shit out like uncontrollably. Not like a tic, I mean I don’t have Tourette’s or anything, but I mean like I ramble when I’m nervous and I’m twitchy when I’m anxious and I can go like days researching useless shit like the history of circumcision in the West or the various subspecies of crab and like their features, habitats, mannerisms, food sources etc…but I’m surprisingly high-functioning or something like that. Apparently I could be worse. And oh, btws, that mean by the way, I’m not allowed to have a lot of caffeine cause then I’m waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay worse. I mean like ten times worse than I am now.”

 

The Were’s eyes momentarily widened, with something resembling fear, before he schooled his expression into another glare-y scowl and crossing his arms across his chest like all buff guys do to show that they’re in control. Stiles mimicked the Were’s body language, but spectacularly failed at duplicating the angry frown his Were had.

 

“Are you always this scowl-ly and grrrr?” Stiles quipped scrunching up his face and making his hand into a claw for effect.

 

“Yes.” The Were muttered to Stiles’ enthusiastic surprise.

 

“OH MY GOD! He speaks!” Stiles crowed excitedly. “So what’s your name?”

 

“Derek.” The Were said tersely.

 

“Are you always this monosyllabic?”

 

“Yes.”

 

That seemed to be the right answer judging from Stiles’ victory flail. “OH MY GOD! You’re my Luke! I finally have my own Luke! Cause I’m totally Lorelei and Scott’s my Rory and Dad’s my Michel, or my Sookie, and/or my Emily I can never decide, but you… you are my Luke! And you shall be _my_ Luke, and I shall name you Luke, and you shall be my Luke.”

 

The Were formerly known as Derek rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

 

“Awwww, not a Gilmore fan? That’s too bad. Guess we found my first duty: I must convert you to the Gilmore Girl way of life. For our Princess Bobo Belle demands it.” Stiles giggled, adding in a zombified-tone, “Watch the show…love the show…”

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“No.”

 

“Scott’s Were watches telenovelas with him.” Stiles complained with a certified teen-pout.

 

“Hmph.” The Were-once-called Derek shrugged.

 

“Whatever. Fine. Be that way. See if I buy you a Christmas present.”

 

Another shrug.

 

“You shrug at my gift-giving?!” Stiles squawked. “I see you, _Derek_.” The teen chewed on his Were’s name like it was an insult. “I see you.”

 

Silence…

 

“Do you work out?”

 

** THE END! **

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written a fic where there wasn’t sex at some point. Is this progress? Or am I regressing to an earlier, more innocent time of life/writing? Someone stop me if I post a Barney the Purple Dinosaur-inspired fic PLEASE!!


End file.
